


nobody gets left behind.

by falconeggs



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon-typical language, David has a son, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Mild Angst, Post-Canon, Time Skips, just a little at the beginning, this is mostly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 20:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19384006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falconeggs/pseuds/falconeggs
Summary: “Well, it’s a really interesting, mildly depressing story,” David tries to explain. “I, uh. Seem to have-. Left. At least one or two singular cells in New York, with the girl I was seeing just before we lost everything. When we came here, I tried to call her. She was the only person I called, actually. And she never answered the phone to tell me she was-.” He isn’t totally sure what’s most appropriate way to end that sentence.“Pregnant with your baby?” Patrick finishes, with absolutely no judgement in his voice.“Yeah,” David says, voice strained. “That.”ORA little boy with the Rose Family Eyebrows shows up at the motel.





	nobody gets left behind.

**Author's Note:**

> I was midway through writing another au when my hands decided to write this instead, in far too little time. It... really got away from me? I have no clue how this got so long, I swear. It was just this fluffy little thing that took over. The working title to this fic was “The Life And Times Of Mini-David And His Two Soft Dads” but that felt wordy. If Daniel doesn’t have to explain the timeline, then neither do i. Please forgive any and all mistakes, I’m positive there are many. If you wanna hang, I’m @focksii on tumblr. Enjoy!!

David arrives at the motel after a very long day of being verbally accosted by the Schitt’s Creek townsfolk over the ten cent price increase of baby carrots, as he has been requested for dinner at the cafe with his family. He’s been living in he and Patrick’s new house for a few weeks now, and his family has made several attempts to get him to move back into the motel. He agreed to dinner because he does, in fact, miss them, and also, because there is some sports thing happening on television that Patrick really cares about. Just as David arrives at the motel, stepping into the sidewalk from the dirt road, a black Mercedes peels out of the parking lot and zooms away. Never, in the five years he’d lived at the motel, has a Mercedes been parked out front. It’s an odd sight, to be sure.

What’s even odder is how Stevie swings open the door so fast, David hears the hinges give a little. “Hey!” She calls, running out of the doorway, and towards the direction of the car that left. “Hey!!” She calls again, but the car is long gone, with nothing but a trail of swirling dust in the air in its wake.

David stops and stares at her. “Fancy out of town guest forgot to pay?” He gathers, giving her a sympathetic smile.

“She was checking in and said she left her ID in the car,” Stevie explains in a hurry. “And then she bolted.” She turns her eyes to David with a bewildered look. “She left something pretty important behind.”

“What, like her bags?” David asks, already imagining what she must have. A nice car like that, she probably has something that’s vaguely familiar to the life David used to lead. He’s a different person now, who has grown into a better, stronger, more empathetic man, but deep down, he’s still the materialistic creature his mother raised, excited by the prospect of getting his hands on some luxury items.

“Uh-,” Stevie draws out as David walks closer to the lobby. She slowly walks backwards, towards the door, her head turning to look over at the couch opposite the desk. “Not exactly.”

David walks into the lobby after her, the same way he had roughly a million times, but is greeted with something very different.

“Daddy!” A little voice gasps, just as he walks inside.

David looks over at the couch with wide eyes at the word, and sees a little boy with dark hair scrambling to get off the couch. “Daddy!” He says again, and it makes the room spin. It feels like David has just swallowed a boulder, the way his stomach plummets. Before he fully realizes what’s going on, the little boy crashes into David’s legs, gripping his very expensive Rick Owens pants as though he belongs there. “You’re here! You’re really here! I missed you so much, Daddy!”

David can’t look down. He looks at Stevie with bewildered eyes. “There is a monkey on my pants,” he breathes to inform her. “And it is calling me ‘Daddy’?” He begs her for help with his eyes.

She looks almost as shellshocked as he feels, but she’s always been the more logical half of their duo. She swoops down and grabs the little boy, slowly pulling him off of David. “Daddy is still a little busy right now,” Stevie says. “How about you go sit over there while we get some stuff all figured out, okay? Hey, d’you want a cinnamon roll?” She takes his little hand and leads him over to the couch again.

David can’t move. He’s frozen in his spot, hands fisted around his phone, jaw locked tight. He’s not a complete idiot, despite many reports. He’s basically a carbon copy of his own father; looking at this little boy is like looking at his own baby pictures. It’s not a mistake that this little boy saw him and knew, it’s an undeniable truth. But David will have to face that truth head on if he actually turns to look at him completely. If he turns to the left, his entire life changes right fucking now, and there is no way he’s ready for that.

Instead, he turns to the right, leaning on the desk, tapping his hand impatiently as he chews on his lips. His mind hamster-wheels, moving quickly, but going nowhere. A slurry of emotions, all of them unfamiliar, course through David. Mostly, this almost feels like that parasailing thing with Anderson Cooper, only a million times worse.

“What the fuck?” Stevie hisses as she comes around the desk. Her eyes are intense, something she must have learned during Cabaret rehearsals from his mother, because he’s only seen that look on his family. Maybe that little boy can make this face, too. A horrifying thought.

“What the fuck?!” He hisses right back, pitched up further. “Who the fuck is that? Who the fuck just ditched their kid at a motel?”

Stevie’s eyes train to the computer. “Loris Brandauer,” Stevie reads from the screen. That boulder in David’s stomach gets twice as heavy, and the room gets a little woozy again. “When she called a couple hours ago, I thought she had to be an old lady, just from the name.” She looks back at David, her eyes back to their normal, blank stare. “Friend of yours?”

David rubs his hands over his face and exhales slowly. The last time he’d seen Loris was just before his family lost everything. She had started to pull away from David, like they always did back then, just as the Government was knocking on their door. Years ago, David waited for all of his friends to reach out, back when disaster struck and rocked him to his core, but exactly none of them did. He didn’t make many calls himself, because he didn’t want to give off a needy vibe, opting for hoping desperately that one of his thousand friends would just know and call him. No one did. Since being in Schitt’s Creek, David has only spoken to one person from his former life, and that was Sebastien Raine, and he doesn’t count. There was only one person he reached out to. He attempted to contact his then-sort-of-girlfriend, Loris, three separate times in the first two weeks of being in Schitt’s Creek. They were the only three calls he made, and she didn’t answer. After that, he got the hint that his old life would never come back.

Apparently, that’s not completely true.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “Are you good at baby ages? How old is that thing? Don’t look, just-. Be casual. You know, a little glance, and tell me what you think. Don’t let him see you looking.”

Stevie’s brows furrow at David to add depth to her incredulous look. “What am I, your Baby Wingman?” She asks, but not-so casually looks at the little boy. “I’d say he’s probably four or five.”

David probably could have figured that out without having anyone look. It would seem that David did one last thing just before the Great Fall Of The Roses, and now that thing sits ten feet away, quietly eating a cinnamon roll. “Oh my god,” he groans.

“You have a son?” Stevie asks.

“Obviously, I didn’t know about him,” David defends himself. If he had-?

Then what? Would he have gone back to New York to try and be with his baby? Is that why he felt that pull, to go home, all those years ago? If he had actually made it, what would have happened? The David in Roland’s stolen truck, eating beef jerky he found in the glove compartment, was a coward. He probably would have run right back to Schitt’s Creek the moment he heard Loris had a baby. He’s different now. He’s better. At least, he really is trying to be better.

Stevie is looking at the little boy, not bothering to make it look like she cares if David notices or not. She lets out an incredulous laugh. “God, he looks just like you,” she says, soft, her voice full of wonder. She scrunches up her face a little bit, which is a lot for Stevie. “And your dad.”

David sucks in an audible breath, standing up a little straighter. He turns and looks at the little boy, and, holy shit, Stevie is right.

The barest traces of Loris are on his face, just in the places they need to be. He’s got the same, black hair, and thick brow. Even with his little baby fat, David can see his own bone structure in that tiny face. Even the way he eats the cinnamon roll, slowly tearing off pieces as he unravels the bun, eating each bite with wide bites, pinky up in an effortless sort of way, is just the same way David would eat it, even though they’d never met before.

David grips his phone in his hand tightly. He wants to take a picture of him- is that weird? He wants to call Patrick and say in a very calm way, “GET THE FUCK OVER HERE NOW.” He wants to call Loris. Would she have changed her number in all these years?

He’s tugged by his heart towards the little boy. Before his idiot brain can catch up to his very smart legs, he’s sitting down beside him. God, it’s even crazier up close, to see him. All of these little details up close, like the shape of his eyes and his hairline, are surreal. “Hi,” David breathes, just as the boy looks up to smile a big, toothy smile at him.

“Hi!” He returns, happily, setting the napkin with the cinnamon roll down in his little lap. “I’m so happy to see you, I been waiting a long time to meet you. I asked to see your picture all the time.”

It makes David’s heart clench. He reaches out and awkwardly pats the boy on his shoulder, not knowing how fragile he is. He doesn’t know one fucking thing about kids; the only baby he’s held was that horrendous piñata. But this kid, he’s different. He’s already got David. “Yes, I’m-,” he clears his throat. “I’m very glad to meet you, too.” He blinks rapidly at the surprising tears that form. “Wh- What’s your name?”

“My name is Calvin Wesley Brandauer, I’m four years old, and I can only have hypelalergic soap,” he announces. David can’t help but smile at his struggle through his big word, he appreciates the attempt.

David sticks out his hand. “I’m David Rose,” he says. “And I literally own a whole store full of hypoallergenic soap.”

Calvin smiles wildly up at David and shakes his hand. It’s sticky from the cinnamon roll, and David has the instinct to cringe, but-. Good God, was he this adorable when he was little? He really doesn’t mind getting a little sticky too much, not when he’s flashed that smile.

David sniffles and looks over at Stevie, who quickly puts her phone down. He can’t help but glare momentarily at her, for intruding on such a monumental moment. He swallows, and straightens his back, before looking down at Calvin. “You see her, over there?” He asks, pointing at his own personal Judas. “Her name is Stevie, and she’s your aunt.”

Calvin gasps. David knows that Loris is an only child who barely spoke to her parents. David himself always craved a life with cousins and aunts and uncles, and, from the way he lights up, it must be a trait he passed down the line. Maybe he got it from his own father.

“I’m going outside for a minute to call your mommy, okay?” David says. “But Aunt Stevie is going to take good care of you, right?” He tosses a vengeful smile at his best friend as he stands up. Her smug grin drops, momentarily. Before she can say anything snide, David steps outside. He has to move quickly, or he’ll get trapped here forever, in Calvin’s sticky little grasp. The last thing David wants is for his family to wander in and have a meltdown, especially before he can give them any answers. God, he has no real idea what’s going on. As soon as the door creaks shut behind him, David takes a deep breath. He takes a few steps away from the office as he pulls up his contact list, finding her name. He hesitates, momentarily, over the number he considered deleting a thousand times. His thumb comes down on the number, and the line starts ringing.

Loris picks up after a few rings. “Hey, sugar,” she says in her fake southern accent, like everything’s all cool.

“What the fuck, Loris?” He hisses into the phone, eyes frantically darting around the parking lot foliage, like he’ll find her out here.

“Did you read my letter?” She asks.

“Your letter?”

“It’s in Calvin’s backpack,” she explains, like it’s that easy. She is taking this far too lightly, in David’s opinion.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t do a cavity search on the four year old you dumped at a roadside motel,” He sneers. “Are you actually fucking deranged? Who just leaves their baby at a motel?”

She sighs heavily, and he can hear from the wind dying down that she’s pulled over, wherever she is. “David,” she starts. “There’s no way you could understand-.”

But there’s not much he wants to hear from her, especially about her feelings. “Why didn’t you tell me about him?” He demands before she can start her monologue.

“I find out I’m pregnant, and not two weeks later, my baby daddy has lost everything,” she says, harshly, “and he’s leaving these depressing voicemails from a shithole, roadside motel. What was I supposed to do, expect you to be ready to be a father? You don’t have two pennies to rub together, how are you supposed to take care of a kid?”

“And, what, you decided I was ready now, four years later, and figured you’d surprise me with the gift of fatherhood?” He shouts. “Is the receipt in the backpack, too?”

“I was wrong,” she says. David’s mouth snaps shut. “All my feelings about you not being ready we’re actually about me not being ready. I’m not ready. It’s been five years and I’m still not ready, David. I can’t give him what he needs. He and I-. We never bonded. Calvin never felt like he was mine. I never even wanted to be a mother, but I tried. I tried so hard. And from the time he could figure out what a father was, he asked for you. God, he begged me for you, and I-. I couldn’t do it, David. I can’t do it anymore.” Her voice is breaking in a way he didn’t know she was capable of. She was once so vapid and shallow, but maybe they’d both changed in their years apart. “I explained this much better in the letter!”

“I hate kids,” David sighs weakly, like it might be some kind of argument to not step up for his son. Fuck, he has a son.

Loris chuckles, and sniffles. “He’s not like most kids,” she says. “He’s basically a tiny adult. Very particular about his things. He needs to know everything. He has to have hypoallergenic laundry detergent, I told him to tell you but-. He’ll probably forget.” Calvin hadn’t forgotten, but he doesn’t feel the need to correct her.

David’s ears start ringing. That little boy in there is indisputably his son, he knows just from the little bit he’s learned about him. He gulps in as much air as he can. He can’t forget to breathe right now. He has to stay focused; now is not the time to have a panic attack in the parking lot. “What am I supposed to tell him about you, if he asks?” He worries.

She lets out a disparaging laugh. “He won’t,” she says, with some certainty. “He never wanted me. He only ever wanted you.”

David swallows down the hard lump in his throat. Why does he feel so guilty? Had he known about Calvin’s existence, he probably would have wanted to be with Calvin, too. But he didn’t know, because Loris never said anything. She never said a word to David, and then just left their son at a motel he no longer lives at. He hadn’t lived there in almost three weeks, what if he’d never come? Something more powerful than fear starts to bubble inside him: paternal rage.

“Don’t come back for him,” David says, firmly, already more protective than he’s ever been in his life, and he once blackmailed a mobster in Mykonos for Alexis’ freedom. “I’ll text you updates, if you want them, but unless he asks for you, I don’t want you to come back. Kids need stability, so I’ve heard, not someone who is going to dump him the first chance she gets.” It’s weird to be one of the more stable people he knows. He’s thankful for all the moments he didn’t notice that made him this way.

There’s a long silence. David wonders, just for a second, if she hung up. “Okay,” she agrees. “Can-. Can I call on his birthday?”

David sighs softly. “Of course you can,” he agrees. He’s not some kind of a monster that will force them apart.

“Good luck, David,” she breathes. “But, I honestly don’t think you’ll need it.”

Loris hangs up before he can say anything else. David stares at the screen of his phone for a long moment. How could she say that? How could she possibly know that David is ready? Does she know he has a house, a store, a husband? It’s pretty presumptuous to just dump a baby on someone just because they look like they’re a few weekends away from getting their white picket fence installed. Many attempts are made to get his shit together, but this is an entirely new situation for David, one he honestly never thought he’d be in. He needs a minute or two before he can go back inside. He needs stable ground, and confirmation that this is going to be okay, somehow. He needs Patrick so badly.

He lets out a long stream of air from his lips as he quickly dials Patrick’s number. He resumes his pacing as he waits for his new husband to answer.

“Hey,” Patrick greets, eventually. “Has dinner gone south already?” He’s lighthearted, a sound David desperately needs. He lets his eyes fall closed as he tries to think of what to say. “David?”

“I’m here,” he whispers.

“What happened?” Patrick asks, at full attention. David can practically see him spring into action over the phone.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “I have no idea how to put this delicately, or even come close to explaining this all to you right now, because I definitely don’t have a firm grasp of what’s going on, so I just have to do a verbal dump that is definitely going to change everything. Like, everything. I really can’t stress how much this changes.”

“David, what’s going on?” Patrick asks, and the concern in his voice is so weirdly soothing.

“I have a son,” he says, forcing the words out. His stomach churns.

There’s a long pause over the phone. “A-.”

“Yes! A son!” David cuts in, somewhere between hysterical and petrified. He looks around, then lowers his voice, turning away from the line of doors. “There is a tiny little boy sitting in the motel office, eating a cinnamon roll, who looks just like me. Like, we definitely don’t need a fucking paternity test. Like, Loris who? Calvin doesn’t know her, apparently; he definitely didn’t get any of her fucking genes. Poor thing is all Rose.”

“David, David, slow down,” Patrick says, in that hurried way that tells David he’s rushing. He must already be on his way. “Breathe. Don’t work yourself up right now.”

“Patrick!” He hisses. “That request feels very close to impossible right now!”

“Where is his mom?” Patrick asks, always so cool in these trying times of duress.

“She left him,” David chokes out, because that’s the worst part. Loris abandoned him, and David will never forgive her for that. “She left him at the motel and drove away. She’s gone.”

“She what?!” Patrick yells, disbelieving.

“She says it’s because he wants me and not her,” David carries on like he wasn’t interrupted, “but he’s four! What the hell does he know about what he wants? How could he know he wants me instead of her if he’s never even met me?” Stupid, emotional tears prick at David’s eyes. He has a million, terrified questions to ask, and no one to give him any real answers.

“David, listen to me, you need to breathe,” Patrick says. “Calm down. Okay? You can get angry or have a huge breakdown later, and we’ll get through that, too.”

“Um, just so that you’re aware,” David squeaks, his voice shaking, “this pep talk tends to work much better for me in person?”

Patrick chuckles, softly, at David’s surprising earnestness. “Okay, sit tight, I’m on my way.” He grumbles something else David can’t quite make out, like he pulled the phone away for a moment. “We’ll figure this out together, okay? But you can’t freak out in front of him.”

“I’m not freaking out!” David insists, though the flailing of his arms and his pitched-up voice would prove otherwise. “He just-. He’s.”

“He’s just a little boy,” Patrick soothes. “Not Mothman. Not Death incarnate, okay? He’s just a little boy who is excited to meet you. Try and think of him as your Number One Fan. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Less. Can you keep him entertained until then?”

“Yeah,” David nods, exhaling roughly. He certainly hopes he can keep a four year old entertained until Patrick gets here. If not, the next few years will be a bumpy ride. “This is not what I wanted to make of our guest room.”

Patrick chuckles, and David can hear the dinging of the car door opening. “Maybe not,” he placates, and the door slams shut. “But we got that memory foam topper for the pull-out couch, so I think whatever other guests we have will be understanding.” David nods, even though Patrick can’t see him. “We can talk about all of this later, okay? I’ll see you in a few.”

“I love you,” David whispers. And he does. Holy shit, does he love Patrick for just rolling with the punches so easily. There couldn’t possibly be a more perfect man.

“I love you,” Patrick says back with the type of ease that makes David jealous. Will it ever be so easy for him to say those words? Will he ever be able to say them to his own son? It had been nearly impossible to crack that nut open, once. But he’s different now, and the way his heart clenches when he looks at Calvin makes him sure that loving him won’t be a problem.

They hang up, and David has to take a second to get himself together before he can even consider facing that little boy again. He presses his fingers, very tightly, over his eyes, until he can see the swirling of the fluid in the darkness. “Okay,” he breathes to himself.

It’s now or never, and he won’t let two of these little boy’s parents run from him. So, he opens the door.

Calvin sits in Stevie’s lap behind the desk, the two of them chatting animatedly. It’s a bizarre, somehow familiar image. It makes David’s heart leap in his chest, a reaction he doesn’t understand, but accepts.

“Daddy, look!” Calvin cries as soon as David walks through the door. He tries to climb up on the desk, but Stevie pulls him back, for safety. “Aunt Stevie helped me make a name-tag like hers!” He pushes his chest foreword to show off the little piece of paper taped to his shirt, ‘CALVIN’ written crudely in marker.

“Look at that!” David comments. “Now everyone will know just who you are! Did you write your name yourself?” Calvin nods proudly, so glad his daddy noticed his hard work. “Amazing penmanship, Calvin. Something you should be very proud of.” David says it very seriously, like he means it. Obviously his handwriting isn’t great, but how many four year olds can write their name?

David honestly doesn’t know the answer to that question. He’s not sure if he’s ever known someone when they were four, aside from Alexis.

Calvin continues to squirm out of Stevie’s grasp. He succeeds eventually, climbing up on the desk. “Oh, okay!” David gasps, and is quick to reach out and hold Calvin steady as he clamors over the counter. Calvin launches himself into David’s arms, and David scrambles to catch him. “Okay! This is-. Fun.” After a long minute of squirming, they settle, with Calvin slung onto David’s side.

Calvin can’t stop grinning. He looks so happy to be in his dad’s arms, and, honestly? David is kind of happy about it, too. Though he’s heavier than anyone so small has any right to be, Calvin’s weight is a comfort, like he was a piece cut from David’s side, finding its place again.

“You look like a prince from a movie,” Calvin says, his voice full of a kind of wonder that David lost touch with an eternity ago. David loves that particular compliment so much it makes his eyes roll back, momentarily.

“If I’m a prince, what does that make you?” David asks, poking at his tummy like he’s done this before. He thought this would be harder, but Calvin is the easiest thing in the world. It’s effortless, like this was supposed to happen. That thought should be stomach-churning, dread-inducing nonsense, but it’s really not.

“Umm,” Calvin thinks, tapping a little finger against his chin. “A count!”

David gasps. “Of course, a count!” He realizes, for Calvin’s benefit. “Why didn’t I think of that? You must be some sort of genius, Count Calvin.”

Calvin ducks his head at the compliment, and David’s heart squeezes at the sight. Are all kids so cute up close when they weren’t snotty and shitting themselves? Surely not, David would insist his genes are those of perfection.

“Stevie?” David asks, his brows raising as he calmly looks to his best friend. “Will you please go to room six and tell your business partner, his spouse, and their less important offspring that I won’t be joining them at the cafe tonight?” He feels Calvin nodding, and he peeks to see a very thoughtful look on his little face, like he understood all of that and concurs wholeheartedly.

“I’m sorry, you want me to do that?” Stevie asks, both exasperated and critical.

“Well, I’m not going to tell them,” he says, defensively. “I have far too much to do, and I am not interested in introducing them to you-know-who just yet. I’m going to need at least twenty-four hours.”

Stevie stares at him for a long, extended moment. David sees in her eyes as she weighs the pros and cons. “Fine,” she snaps. “But I’m not calling Patrick for you. That’s definitely something you have to do yourself.”

“I hate to point out the egg on your face, because you know how I love that look on you,” he says, “but, I already told him. He’s on his way, he’ll be here soon, probably.”

Stevie gets this tight smile on her face as she realizes that David has bested her, for this round. “Fine,” she says again, putting her hands on the desk as she hoists herself off of the chair. “You better be out of here fast, because you know they’re all going to run over here.”

David sighs softly, knowing that she’s right. “Just-, can you?” He stammers, and she nods, knowingly. “It’s too much right now. Tomorrow. Tell them I’ll call tonight.”

“Tell them to come over tonight, got it,” she says dryly as she rounds the desk. David narrows his eyes at her, but she ignores in in favor of giving Calvin a little tickle. “Bye, buddy! It was really nice to meet you!”

Calvin squirms a little in David’s arms, shifting to reach over and give her a surprisingly tight hug. “Bye, Aunt Stevie!” He says back, loudly. “Can we play tomorrow?” When Calvin lets go of Stevie so they can both look at David for permission.

David hesitates, because he doesn’t like being the decision maker, but he’s the parent- Ugh. “Whenever you’d like,” David promises Calvin with a smile, because this poor little thing is about to get the shit spoiled out of him. There’s absolutely nothing David can do about that.

Calvin sighs in relief, sagging into David’s side. “Okay,” he nods, resting his head against David’s shoulder. It makes David’s heart flutter in his chest.

David forces his eyes to follow Stevie over to the door as he walks back over to the the couch. Calvin is heavy for such a little thing, but, frankly, David doesn’t have the urge to put him down. As he sits and adjusts Calvin into his lap, Stevie opens the door and steps outside.

“Oh, hey,” David hears Stevie say. “Wow, you are speedy. They’re in there.”

“Thanks,” Patrick says, and his voice makes David’s heart patter faster. Not a moment later, he’s passing through the still-open door, eyes landing on the two on the couch instinctually. “Oh my god,” he breathes on sight.

David lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Hi,” David breathes, his mouth twitching up in a nervous smile.

Calvin has his neck craned upwards to look at his Daddy. When he sees David looking so intently at this man, Calvin snaps his head to look at the man in the doorway. “Hi!” He greets, far more enthusiastically than David had.

“Hi!” Patrick says back, a smile appearing on his face as he stares at Calvin. His eyes look so bright and soft as they look at the boy. His feet slowly take him towards the pair. “You must be Calvin.”

“I am!” Calvin bods, excited that someone knows him. “Who’re you?”

“This is Patrick,” David says, softly, smiling so brightly as his eyes shift from Calvin to Patrick, who is sitting down beside them on the couch. “He’s my husband.” David gets tickled pink every time he says that word. He smiles over at Patrick as he places a gentle hand on his knee.

Calvin’s eyes get wide, and there’s a half a moment of panic in David, for some reason. Would he be disappointed that David wasn’t still with his Loris? “I get two daddies?” Calvin gasps, his own excitement catching hold of his little body.

Patrick lets out a surprised laugh, his eyes darting up to David’s. They hadn’t really discussed having kids, as they’re only a few short weeks into their marriage. Patrick knows with some certainty that David is not a fan of infants and toddlers, so having a baby together was probably never the route they would go down. Patrick imagined fostering a kid, eventually, when they’re a little more stable. But now, here is this boy, this tiny version of his David, who is asking if Patrick will be his dad, and Patrick’s simply not strong enough to even pretend to think about his answer. “Two whole daddies,” Patrick agrees with a nod.

Calvin starts to scramble up, and David holds him steady, so he doesn’t go toppling into the table. Calvin starts to lunge for Patrick, but turns, last moment, to grasp David by the face. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” He asks, very seriously.

David wants to laugh. “You just got here!” He defends himself against the four year old. “When was I supposed to tell you? When you were climbing up my pants?”

Calvin considers this, and decides he must not have a good answer. He walks over both of them to throw himself into Patrick’s arms, his eyes closed as he presses a chubby little cheek against Patrick’s shoulder. “I wanted my Daddy forever and now I have two,” Calvin whispers in wonder. “This is the best day ever.”

David’s heart clenches so tightly it may have stopped for a moment. Seeing Patrick hugging Calvin like he’ll never let go is almost too much to bear. Patrick locks eyes with him over Calvin’s shoulder and gives David a watery smile.

David sniffles, then exhales roughly, shaking his head. “Not to end this very life-altering moment for us all,” he says, softly, “but, I’d say we have about a minute and a half before we have some very unwanted visitors messing with this nice, calm thing we have right now.”

Patrick nods and sucks in a breath, pulling back from Calvin just enough to look at him. “You’ve had a long day, huh?” Patrick asks. Calvin nods. “Are you hungry?” Calvin nods again, eagerly. “Alright, lets go home and find some dinner.” He looks over to David, who gives a nod in solidarity.

They stand, David grabbing the backpack and the tiny little suitcase that, admittedly, is so fucking cute, and Patrick carries Calvin outside, but as soon as they pass through the door, Calvin reaches for David. Never before has a child reached out for David. He suddenly understands why everyone thinks that kids are so cute, jumping to take him from Patrick’s grip. Maybe it’s just because it’s Calvin, and David is completely enamored with him already. Patrick happily takes the luggage instead, as it is much lighter than the little boy.

It’s only when David sees Patrick’s car that he realizes they’re totally unprepared for having a small child with them. Their house is not kid-safe, something they’ll have to rectify very quickly. “We have to get a car seat,” David gasps, looking at Patrick with wild eyes. 

“I’ll go to the Costco in Elmdale tomorrow,” Patrick says, easily, with a fond smile as he unlocks the door with the key fob. He holds the passenger door open for David and Calvin. David can’t help but smile softly at his husband as he ducks into the car and buckles himself in.

“Is this safe?” Calvin asks pointedly, his face scrunching up. Did David make that face, too?

“Probably not, but it’s safer than putting you in the trunk,” David nods, and Calvin giggles as he settles into David’s lap.

Patrick climbs into the driver’s seat after depositing Calvin’s bags in the backseat. “Ready to go?” He asks the boys in the seat beside him.

David looks down at Calvin, who as safe as he’s going to get in this situation. “We’re ready,” David says, with a nod.

Patrick starts the car and quickly puts it in reverse. At the same time that Patrick begins to back out of the parking space, the door to room six swings open and David’s family spills out. “DAVID!!” He hears his mother scream from across the parking lot and through the glass window.

“David, come back!” Johnny calls, not quite as loudly. David can see Alexis mouthing a dumbfounded ‘Oh my fucking god’ as they start to pull away.

“Do not stop,” David commands, quiet and firm, knowing Patrick wouldn’t stop anyway.

“Who is that?” Calvin asks, wiggling around in David’s lap to press his face against the glass and see those three, animated, vaguely familiar people again.

“They’re my family,” David explains, softly. “My mom and dad and sister.”

Calvin turns his wide stare to David, mouth hanging open in surprise. “I wanna see them!” He demands, trying to stand up and lean back.

“Tomorrow,” David promises in a grunt, trying to hold him still.

“No!” Calvin yelps still trying to wriggle out of David’s grasp. “I want to see them!”

“Stop squirming!” David groans, frustration leeching in. Oh, right, he really doesn’t like kids, even adorable carbon copies of himself, especially when they squirm.

“Calvin,” Patrick pipes up, reaching over to place a steady hand on the little boy’s side. “You’ve had a really big day today, and we want to show you your new room right now. Our family can be too much fun sometimes, and we don’t want you getting exhausted, right?”

David knew, previously, that Patrick is some kind of Baby Wizard, a Child Whisperer of sorts. He can even calm down David in the most hysterical of moments. But, for some reason, David wasn’t expecting such an immediate response. Somehow, Calvin knows, instinctually, to calm down.

“I don’t want to get exalted,” Calvin repeats, softly, shaking his head as he settles into David’s lap again. “But we can play tomorrow? With Aunt Stevie and Grandma and Grandpa?”

David’s heart squeezes for the thousandth time today. God, his mother would hate the sound of that, and will inevitably require an alternative, but. It’s yet another stark reminder that this is real, that he’s Calvin’s father. It’s insane how quickly his life is being carved out around this little boy he met twenty minutes ago.

“I promise,” Patrick swears with a fond smile in Calvin’s direction.

This seems to sufficiently soothe Calvin, as he sags against David, his head resting against David’s chest. David wraps his arms around his little body tightly, not wanting to let go. This day is probably the most traumatic day of his young life. David is determined to only have Calvin look back on it fondly, as the day he found his family, instead of the day his mother left him at a motel with strangers. David doesn’t want to be a stranger, not to Calvin.

Patrick drives extra slow down the main drag of the town, being careful to not get into an accident, as they have a very unsecured child in the car. Eventually, they pull into the driveway of their new house, freshly purchased as the ink on their marriage license dried. They’re still in the slow process of filling their house with their belongings; every time one of them comes home with something new, they share in the giddy feeling of their life starting.

Thank God they got that little head start. Thank God that Calvin arrived after David had moved out of the motel. He would have gladly forced Alexis out of the room to give Calvin her bed. David wouldn’t even mind being murdered first in this monstrosity of a scenario, so long as Calvin could scurry away to safety. Fortunately, they can bring him home to something real, something nice.

“This is your house?” Calvin asks, his face pressed excitedly to the window so he can see it a little better. “It’s so tiny! It’s like a cardboard box!” He doesn’t sound mean, despite his words.

Patrick smirks and looks right into David’s eyes. “He’s definitely your son,” he teases.

David rolls his eyes as he opens the car door. Calvin slips off of David’s lap and onto their driveway. “I saw a movie once with little kitties in a box!” Calvin babbles, excitedly, making his way towards the front door like he’s been here a million times. “Only that box was all broken, and this is a nice box. You guys can be the daddy kitties, and I’ll be a little kitten!”

David can’t help but chuckle as he gets out of the car. “That sounds promising,” he says, affectionately, closing the car up behind him. He glances over his shoulder at Patrick, who mouths ‘meow’ at him as he grabs Calvin’s bags. David rolls his eyes, then turns to watch Calvin make his way up the walkway to the front door.

Calvin reaches up and grasps hold of the door handle. He pulls on it with his whole body, hoping it’ll open, but the locked door doesn’t budge. “Daddy!” He calls, in frustration, wanting to be in the house already.

“We’re coming,” David promises as he starts up the concrete walkway through their pretty, green lawn. “Hang on a second, honey.” He hadn’t expected to say the petname, the one he assigned to Patrick for their sweetest moments. It just tumbled out and stuck to Calvin.

Patrick is just behind him, and slides a hand over David’s shoulder. David catches his eyes as Patrick jumps ahead of him to unlock the door. At his feet, Calvin is buzzing with excitement. He reaches up and takes David’s hand, squeezing his fingers tightly in anticipation. Patrick unlocks the door, then steps aside so Calvin can walk through first. The little boy does exactly that, dragging David along with him as he marches into his new home to inspect everything.

After a minute or two, Calvin lets his grip slip, wandering around without being attached to David’s side. He peeks around at all of their belongings in his eyeline, hands clasped tightly. The longer he spends exploring, the more comfortable he gets with his surroundings, eventually flopping down onto the couch with a dramatic flair.

“I love it,” Calvin decides in a whisper, his eyes closing as he pulls himself up onto the couch.

David’s lips purse to hold back his emotions at the sight. He swallows hard, shaking his head to try and come back to himself. Patrick comes up behind him and slides an arm around his waist. “We really need to talk about this,” He murmurs, but he sounds so fond. David nods in agreement leaning into Patrick’s side.

“Do you have any Mac and Cheese?” Calvin asks, looking over at David and Patrick expectantly. “I wanna watch Stitch!”

Patrick lets out a soft laugh. “I think we have some Kraft dinner somewhere,” he says with a nod. David grimaces, slightly, trying to remember if that’s true or not. “I’llgo get started.” He kisses David’s cheek softly before letting go and making his exit.

“Let’s find Stitch,” David says with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. He pulls up Netflix and searches the word, having exactly no reference for what ‘Stitch’ is. He imagines a movie about some new princess with a magic sewing machine or something.

“The first one!” Calvin points wildly at the television screen. “It’s the first one, Daddy! The second one is good too, but the first one is the most good!” The first selection has a little, blue, mouse-type thing on its cover. This movie is not about a magic sewing machine, which feels a little bit like a let-down. All the same, he selects the movie and puts the remote down on the table.

He watches for a few minutes with Calvin as some mad scientist alien is put on trial for creating a genetic monstrosity. He wonders if it’s actually a kids movie, but it’s animated, and Calvin looks enthralled already.

“I’m gonna go help with dinner,” David says quietly, pointing towards the kitchen through the doorway. “If you need anything, we’ll be right in there, just yell for us, and we’ll be there.”

Calvin nods, not looking away from the television. David lets his eyes linger on him for a few, extended moments before standing up and following Patrick to the kitchen. As soon as he’s out of sight, David finds himself missing the little guy, which is such a weird feeling that makes him want to crawl out of his skin.

“Hey,” he announces his presence, shortly, as he enters the kitchen. Patrick is already hard at work, filling a pot with water to boil. “So....” He honestly has no idea where to begin with this all.

“Why do we have a son now?” Patrick asks, like he’s curious, instead of angry about not being told about this. The phrase itself manifests like butterflies inside David.

“Well, it’s a really interesting, mildly depressing story,” David tries to explain without actually giving any information. Why is he always so afraid that Patrick will leave when he hears about David’s exes? “I, uh. Seem to have-. Left. At least one or two singular cells in New York, with the girl I was seeing just before we lost everything. When we came here, I tried to call her. She was the only person I called, actually. And she never answered the phone to tell me she was-.” He isn’t totally sure what’s most appropriate way to end that sentence.

“Pregnant with your baby?” Patrick finishes, with absolutely no judgement in his voice.

“Yeah,” David says, voice strained. “That.”

“So, you didn’t know about him?” Patrick confirms, turning on the burner on the stove and stepping away to be a little closer to David.

“Of course not!” He hisses, defensively. “I’m not a monster.”

“No, of course you’re not,” Patrick cuts in easily, reaching over to take David’s hand. He purses his lips as he tries to think of what question is the most logical to go next. “Why did she bring him here?” He asks. David realizes he must not have been very clear on the phone.

David remembers what Loris had said, like a sconce of an idea. He holds up one finger, then quickly goes to find the backpack Calvin brought with him. He hears Patrick call after him, and he waves a hand, distractedly. He has to rummage through coloring books and bedtime stories and a new iPad, but he eventually finds a white envelope with his name printed on the front.

He walks it back, very calmly, back to the kitchen, leaving it unopened. He’s too afraid of what’s inside. He knows bits and pieces, what Loris muddled through over the phone, but this contains four years worth of truth he’s entirely unready for. He supposes that it doesn’t matter if he’s ready or not, it’s happening.

He opens the envelope carefully. Inside is one single page, written in Loris’ curling scrawl. His eyes dart over the page but he can’t absorb the words. He tries over and over to start, but his eyes refuse to see the markings on the page. David exhales roughly and shoves the letter to Patrick.

“I can’t,” He stammers, intelligently. “I need you to-. Can you-? I can’t read th-.” He lets out a pathetic whine he’d be embarrassed about if this were anyone but Patrick.

Patrick takes the paper and holds it up. He starts to read to himself quickly, then darts his eyes back up to David’s. His whole face is concaved with concern. “I don’t know if I can read this,” Patrick says, almost timidly.

“Yeah, she can be- biting,” David sighs, still overwhelmed with distress. “I need you to read it. Please, Patrick?”

“Okay, okay,” he sighs, looking back down to the page. He hesitates, preparing himself for having to say these things to him.

“You probably don’t need this part to be explained,” Patrick reads, quietly, not wanting the boy watching his movie in the other room to hear. “If you’ve found this letter, then you’ve met Calvin, and you know that he’s your son. It’s pretty obvious, I think. He reminds me so much of you, it makes me crazy. Every day, he looks more and more like you, but it’s more than that. I see you in how he frets over every little thing. I barely see any of me in him. He’s just a tiny version of you, only too sweet, and not as fucked up.

“I made a lot of mistakes in my life, maybe starting with hooking up with you in the first place. It was a mistake to not be more careful, but I guess we can blame it on the molly. It was a mistake to keep Calvin, to not have an abortion, or not to give him up. It was a mistake to never call you back, to never tell you about him.

“Telling Calvin about you seemed like a mistake, at first. His third word was ‘Dada’. He hadn’t even said ‘Mama’ yet. That fucking stung. To know he wanted you more than he wanted me, and he didn’t know you existed yet? It cut me up.

“It felt like a mistake to show him your pictures, but he wanted to see you so badly. He would cry to see your face. I’d show him pictures from your Insta. I don’t know if you know I still follow you. I know you unfollowed me. From the very first picture, he adored you. He would just gaze at my phone screen, at your face, and then ask when you were coming. He longed for you. It tore me up, because I can never be what he needs.

“It was a mistake, to have your son, because he would never be mine.

“But, it was a mistake to have kids at all. I’m not cut out for motherhood. Fuck, I think I’m learning that I don’t even know what love is, so how can I love a little brat who needs so much? You probably think you’re not cut out for it, either, but I remember how you sent Alexis those papers at the embassy on our third date. I know you have your little boutique in nowhereville. I know you’re starting a good, easy life with a very kind-looking guy. I know you have a big heart under all your weird bullshit. That’s what Calvin needs, not me.

“This is the first thing I’ve done in Calvin’s life that isn’t a mistake. Giving him to you, bringing Calvin where he belongs, is the first good thing I’ll ever do for him. I’ll miss him, but I know this is the right thing to do. 

“I’m sorry it had to be this way. Lets add it to the long list of mistakes I’ve made. I thought a clean break would be easiest for everyone. No confusion, no goodbyes. Tell Calvin that I don’t want him to cry for me, in case he ever does. Tell him that he belongs with you.

“Good luck. I don’t think you’ll need it. Loris.” Patrick folds the letter and puts it down on the counter.

David grits his teeth. He can’t decide if he’s more enraged with Loris, or heartbroken for Calvin. He wants let out a scream, or maybe cry, and definitely give Calvin about a thousand hugs.

“I don’t think ‘biting’ is the word I’d use to describe her,” Patrick says, after a long moment. His voice is strained, and when David looks over at him, he jaw his clenched tightly and his fists are curled.

“No shit,” David agrees with a huff. He stares at Patrick for a long moment. “We have to keep him.”

Patrick is surprised by that statement. “Of course we’re going to keep him,” He affirms, stepping closer to David. “He’s your son. He’s staying with us.” He’s so sure when he says it, it steadies David. He nods in agreement and takes a deep breath. With a sympathetic look, Patrick reaches up and cups David’s cheek gently. “I know you’re scared, but you’re going to be amazing. I already see it.”

David nods jerkily, as best he can with Patrick holding his face. “Okay,” he breathes, his eyes blinking so fast Patrick can nearly feel the wind from his lashes. “You’re with me? Because I definitely can’t do this without you.”

Patrick smiles, like he can’t believe David asked him that question. “So long as you don’t make him think I’m his evil step-father,” he jokes, leaning in to kiss David softly.

David melts into Patrick, wrapped up in the feeling of unwavering support. There’s no chance he could handle this alone, or even with anyone else. “Thank you for this,” he whispers against Patrick’s lips. 

Patrick smiles, pulling away, but pulling David with him by the waist. He drags him to the doorframe, so he can look over on the couch and look at Calvin. “There’s nothing I could do,” he says, like he’s happy about it. David tucks his chin over Patrick’s shoulder, holding him from behind. “When I saw him, on your lap, I knew he’s yours, he has to be with us.” He tilts his head to look at David. “Look at him. How could I not love him? He’s you, but tiny.”

David sighs and ducks his head to press his hairline to the seam of Patrick’s shirt. “I am already imagining having to play bad cop with him,” he groans softly.

Patrick chuckles. “No, you’ll be the fun dad,” he disagrees. “Plus, he’s been dreaming of you, he’ll love you, even when you’re mean.” David cringes at the very concept of being dreamed of by someone. Patrick laughs at him, kissing his temple before stepping out of David’s grasp to get back to dinner.

David’s eyes linger on Calvin for a few moments as he leans against the doorway. He looks over to Patrick, dumping noodles into the boiling pot, and warmth blooms over his chest. Sure, David is terrified beyond reason, but the excitement and happiness and unconditional love he feels all overpower his terror. This is a whole new level of domesticity he truly never expected to reach.

“You can be the dad that helps him with his homework,” David suggests, a wide smile on his face.

Patrick grins right back, clearly liking that idea. “Take him to hockey practice,” he teases, knowingly. “Did you ever see that video of the little boy who got mic’d during hockey practice?”

David’s grin twists down into a surprised grimace, not answering Patrick’s question about the hockey kid video he definitely hasn’t watched. “Um, just so you’re aware of what you’re working with here, the only person I know even less physically adept than me is Loris?” He makes Patrick aware. “So. Hockey practice. Very unlikely, but you’re more than welcome to try.”

Patrick snorts as he stirs the pot. “I don’t know, I heard your dad is a Hebrew School legend,” he jokes. “Maybe athletic ability skips a generation.”

David’s brows knit with indignation. “Yeah, my dad is a regular Baby Ruth,” he deadpans.

It only makes Patrick grin wider at him. “That one’s the candy bar,” he educates, pointing his spoon at David. David just rolls his eyes, then turns his head to look back at Calvin. He hears Patrick put down the spoon, and the sound of his feet padding closer. “Hey,” he captures David’s attention again, sliding a hand over his shoulder. “Sports, music, knitting classes, space camp. Wherever he wants to go, I’ll take him and cheer him on.”

David gives his husband a watery smile, sniffling softly. “I’m going to get you one of those stupid mugs,” he mumbles, almost like he’s embarrassed by the idea. Patrick smiles fondly at David, glancing down at David’s lips before kissing them softly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It takes almost four months, two court appearances, and an inspection of their home, but David and Patrick are awarded full custody of Calvin. They get a new birth certificate drawn up, with David’s name printed proudly on the line labeled ‘Father’, and Calvin’s last name adjusted to match.

Until it’s time for him to start school, Calvin joins David and Patrick at Rose Apothecary every day. He becomes something of an unofficial mascot for the store. It doesn’t take long before the entire town flocks to the store to gawk at the sudden child, falling in love almost as instantaneously as the Roses had. It’s great for sales, though the parents have taken it as an invitation to bring their children to the store, which David doesn’t like.

Somehow, having a kid makes the two of them infinitely more likable to the community, but especially David. The moms trust their opinions on the products they sell, the dads all pick up just dropping in to offer shitty advice, and the non-parents don’t find him to be a horrible baby and tend to enjoy Calvin’s company. Most importantly, everyone rallies around them, supporting them through this very strange and wonderful transition in their life.

The year they get, with the three of them at the store everyday, ends up being more fun than they ever dreamed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

David wakes to a little foot jamming into his leg. He gives a soft grunt, registering that the sun is barely up. He was hoping to have an hour or two more sleep, but he’s never been so lucky. When Calvin pokes his head up from under the covers, having finished his epic crawl up the the bed, he taps on David’s chest.

“Daddy,” Calvin whispers loudly, right into David’s ear. “Daddy, wake up.” He uses his little arms to give David a shake.

David lets out a dramatic snore.

Calvin, the smart boy he is, knows this is a lost cause, and tries the safer bet. He turns to look at Patrick, shaking him, too. “Daddy!” He whispers, more urgently.

“Hmm?” Patrick answers, softly, not blinking his eyes open yet.

“Do you know what today is?” Calvin asks, softly. Obviously, both Patrick and David are very aware of what today is. It’s been marked on their calendar all year, not that either of them need any reminding. They’d been up past midnight, wrapping the last few presents for him.

“I think it’s Thursday, but it might be Friday,” Patrick teases.

“No,” Calvin drags out, his whole body wiggling, unable to contain his excitement. “It’s my birthday!”

“What?” Patrick asks, fighting off his grin. “No, that can’t be possible, it was just your birthday last year!”

“Nuh-uh, it’s today!” Calvin says, bouncing on Patrick’s chest.

Patrick’s eyes snap open as he gasps, looking right at Calvin. “Today?” He confirms, like it’s huge, international news. Calvin nods with enthusiasm. “Well, you know what that means.”

“Pancakes,” David grumbles, and Calvin giggles at him.

“Pancakes,” Patrick agrees, smiling over at David, who is peeking one eye open at them. Patrick looks up at Calvin, and then snatches him up in a tight embrace, tickling his sides. Calvin squeals, trying to squirm away, but his dad is too strong. Patrick lays a big, fat kiss to Calvin’s cheek, then lifts them both out of bed. “C’mon, David. It’s time for birthday pancakes.”

Patrick puts Calvin down, who scurries around to the other side of the bed. “C’mon, Daddy!” He says, grabbing David’s hand and shaking him awake. “Pancakes!”

That in and of itself is enough of a reason for David to pull himself out of bed, two hours too early. “Okay, okay,” he sighs. His feet touch the ground and he stands, stretching out. He lets his eyes fall in Calvin, taking a moment to look at his son. “Happy birthday, honey,” he grins slowly, tugging Calvin closer so he can lift him up and give him a tight hug.

It’s Calvin’s second birthday since coming to live with David and Patrick. It had been a quiet affair last year, as Calvin was still fresh in town and hadn’t made a lot of friends yet. Now, he’s in school, and he’s effortlessly popular in a way that a young David would be jealous of, but current David is very proud of. They’ve planned a party to celebrate the grand occasion of Calvin’s sixth birthday, complete with a bouncy house and a big chocolate cake in the shape of a caterpillar, as he’s been going through an epic bug phase, much to David’s thorough pain.

Calvin will go to school with cupcakes for the class. David thought it was really fucking stupid, to have to provide cupcakes for the whole class on his own kid’s birthday. Calvin didn’t mention it until late yesterday evening. Ivan was really sweet about the rush order and the delivering of the cupcakes in a timely manner last night, something David was very grateful for. After school, Moira will pick Calvin up and entertain him for an hour or two before the party behind Rose Apothecary begins. The big party planned for after school will take time to put together. It’s time like these that it’s a blessing that Moira and Johnny are obsessed with Calvin, and jump at every chance to be with him. Loris will likely call, either at an inopportune time or right after bedtime, to talk to Calvin for roughly a minute, and then go back to pretending like he doesn’t exist until next year.

But until then, he’s all David and Patrick’s. David nearly hates himself for missing the first four of Calvin’s birthdays, as if he had any say in the matter, so he and Patrick are determined to make up for lost time. They go down the stairs, David leading the way with Calvin attempting to crawl onto David’s back. David relents before Calvin can slip and hurt himself.

“You’re getting heavy,” David groans dramatically, adjusting Calvin on his back. “We might have to give your birthday cake back to Ivan.” That would absolutely never happen. David has already picked out which piece he wants to eat.

“You’re gonna eat more than me!” Calvin complains, pulling on David’s hair. Behind them, Patrick chuckles.

“Ow, Calvin, not the hair,” David says, ducking his head out of Calvin’s grasp. Calvin laughs, and tugs on his ears, instead. “Menace.” He doesn’t mean it. Well, he does, but he loves Calvin so much, he can overlook that fact.

When they make it to the foot of the stairs, Calvin gasps at the sight of the living room. The coffee table is stacked high with presents, a bike-shaped, wrapped up mass behind it. He unlocks his hands from around David’s neck and slides down his back.

“These are all for me?” He breathes, wonder in his little voice.

“All for you!” David confirms, running a gentle hand over Calvin’s hair.

Calvin tears his eyes away from his massive pile of presents, looking over his shoulder at Patrick, who is passing behind David to get to the kitchen. “I thought you forgot!” Calvin accuses, overjoyed to be proven wrong.

“Of course not!” Patrick promises with a bright smile. “How could we forget your birthday? It’s your special day!” He gives Calvin a very fond pat on the shoulder before headed to the kitchen to make up far too many pancakes.

“Do you want to open your presents before school?” David asks, already knowing the answer. 

Calvin jumps up and down excitedly, grasping David hands. “Yeah!” He says. He pulls David over to the couch, patiently sitting him down. “But-. If I don’t open them all, can I still have them?” It’s questions like this that make David wonder what the hell Loris taught Calvin.

“They’re yours, wrapped or unwrapped,” David promises, very seriously. He takes Calvin by the shoulders and spins him, so he faces his mountain of presents so he can get started. “See how many you can open before you have to go get dressed for school.” Calvin is happy to accept this challenge, reaching for the biggest one he can find at this moment and carefully tearing open the package.

Patrick comes in the living room a minute or two later with a mug of coffee for David. David cranes his neck up to thank Patrick with a kiss. Patrick lingers, smiling into David’s lips, enjoying this moment. He takes in the soft, still sleepy look on his husband’s face before looking to Calvin. “What’d you get, bud?” He asks, knowing exactly what Calvin got.

“A ant farm!” Calvin exclaim, holding up the box triumphantly.

“Wow!” Patrick gasps, even though he’s the one that bought it. David can’t help but smile at the both of them. “That looks so fun!”

David would disagree with the concept of intentionally keeping ants in the house being anything close to fun, but how can he argue with the bright smile on his son’s face? He simply can’t. Calvin’s bug phase is forcing David to be braver, which is something he can’t really argue with.

Patrick presses a kiss to the top of David’s head and leaves to finish making the birthday pancakes. David stays behind and watches Calvin tear through his presents in some kind of record time with fond eyes. Two years ago, he wouldn’t have spent a hot nickel on anyone under the age of twenty, and now he’s happy to burn cash on some frivolous thing that will make his little boy beam up at him.

Calvin throws some paper behind him, and then lets out an excited shriek when he realizes what he’s unwrapped. “It’s Stitch!” He screams, definitely too early in the day and in David’s first cup of coffee for so much hype. “Daddy, I got my own Stitch!” Calvin rips open the packaging around the plushie toy with Hulk-like strength so that he can hug the little blue alien against his chest.

“Do you like it?” David asks, like that answer isn’t obvious. He’s been talking about Stitch since the day they met him, it’s by far his favorite movie. 

“I love it!” Calvin says, rocking his new plushie back and forth. He stands extremely quickly, bursting into a run to crash into David. 

“Oh,” David gasps in surprise, but he grabs a hold of Calvin on instinct, pulling him onto his lap.

Calvin squishes himself against David, hugging him as tightly as his little arms will allow. “Thank you so much!” He says, his body shaking a little with excitement. “Can we get a real Stitch?”

David is not nearly as dumb as he must look; he knows that this is Calvin’s very subtle way of testing the waters on the subject of a dog. “We tried to get you a real Stitch,” David says, not at all talking about a dog. “But Dr. Jumba was just so busy, he’s booked out for ten years. Just slammed with illegal genetic experimentation.”

Calvin makes a face, but doesn’t push the issue further, thankfully. If he’d actually asked for a dog, David would have to go out and get a dog, and that’s definitely not something he wants. An organized little boy is one thing, a puppy is an entirely different thing. But, if Calvin ever asks, David will get him a dog, goddamn it.

“Pancakes!” Patrick calls, and that singular word is more than enough to send both David and Calvin running for the breakfast table.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The front door opens at just about the exact moment David had been anticipating, the same time as every week. “Hey!” He calls as he hears the door close behind Patrick and Calvin. “How was practice?”

The only response David receives from his son is a groan as he trudges upstairs to his room. At this point, David knows Calvin; he’s an expressive, talkative boy, even when he’s not in the best of moods. For David to get absolutely nothing from his eight year old is beyond strange.

David turns his apprehensive expression to his husband. “What happened?” He asks.

Patrick shrugs, helplessness in his eyes. “I don’t know, I thought he was doing better!” He says, obviously not liking that he doesn’t know how to help their son. “He was great at practice, and then didn’t say two words to me the whole way home.”

It was obvious, even from the start, that Calvin doesn’t have much athletic ability, especially when it comes to baseball. While his lack of natural ability was something of a hinderance, Calvin usually tries to make up for it with enthusiasm. Lately, he’s been getting better, almost catching everything that flies his way, almost never getting distracted during games anymore. Today is different, though, clearly.

Patrick rubs his hands over his face, then takes a few steps towards the stairs. “I should talk to him,” he breathes.

David shakes his head as he jumps up from the couch. “No, I will,” he says, quickly putting his hands on Patrick’s shoulders to stop him and draw him closer. They both know that their boy would never, in a million years, tell Patrick that he hates baseball, but he might be willing to tell David.

Patrick hangs his head with a heavy sigh, nodding his head in a goofy bob, despite his crestfallen expression. David gives him a sympathetic smile, leaning in to kiss him, once on his forehead, and then drawing his eyes back up to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Go relax. Try not to take it so hard, okay?” Patrick bobs his head again. This isn’t anyone’s fault, they both know that. David kisses him once more, lingering by his lips, before following Calvin up the stairs.

Calvin hadn’t closed his door behind him, a clear indicator that, as upset as he may be, he does actually want one or both of his dads to check in. David knocks on the open door, anyway, because he’s trying to become the kind of parent that respects their children’s boundaries. “Calvin?” He calls, softly, slowly stepping into the room. He’s face up on his bed, staring at the ceiling. “What happened?”

Calvin doesn’t twitch, he just stares up at the bug stickers on his ceiling. “I suck,” he says, like he resents it.

David sighs and sits down on the edge of Calvin’s bed. “You don’t suck,” he disagrees.

“Yes, I do,” Calvin says, forcefully, not interested in anymore pep talks. “I’m the worst in the whole league. I can’t throw the ball. Or catch the ball. Or hit the ball. Basically all the parts with the ball. And I can’t run good either. So, what’s baseball without the ball or the running?”

David thinks he’s far too young to be asking rhetorical questions. “Standing,” he answers. “And you’re the best at that.” Calvin props himself up on his elbows to give David an annoyed look. “You can always quit.”

“No, I can’t,” Calvin argues, flopping back down.

“Why not?”

“Dad loves baseball,” Calvin explains, his voice quiet.

David frowns, climbing onto the bed completely so he can tug Calvin closer. “C’mere,” He says, dragging Calvin onto his lap, so his cheek presses against David’s chest, just like the day they met. He’s bigger now, nearly twice the size as he was the first time he curled into David’s lap. Calvin is still David’s little boy, though, and there will probably still be room for him on David’s lap when he’s twice the size as he is now. “Dad loves you more than he loves baseball. Okay? And if you don’t want to play baseball anymore, Dad will still love you, just as much.”

“I don’t want him to be mad at me,” Calvin says, quietly, muffled slightly into David’s sweater.

David tsks, his hand carding through Calvin’s soft hair. “He won’t be,” David promises. “He wants you to be happy way more than he wants you to like baseball.”

“I like baseball!” Calvin promises. “I do! I like going to the grown up games and watching on tv! I’m just-. Not very good at playing.”

“That’s okay!” David promises, leaning back, just a little, to look down at his face. “Your talents lie elsewhere, and that is totally okay with me and Dad. He’ll be just as happy to just watch games with you, instead.”

“Are you sure?” Calvin asks, still timid. The last thing he wants is any excuse for either of his Dads to be unhappy with him.

“We talked about it the very first day you came to live with us,” David promises. “We just want you to be happy. If it’s not baseball, we’ll figure out something else you love and support you in whatever that will be.” David feels him relax in his arms, so he holds him a little tighter. “Okay. Now that we’re through that, we have definitely had a conversation about cleats on the bed.”

Calvin huffs, but pulls his shoes off and throws them off the edge of the bed. Usually, Calvin doesn’t need the reminder to pick up after himself, preferring a very tidy bedroom, so David doesn’t completely feel the urge to nag him.

“Are we still going to the cafe with Bamba and Grandpa?” Calvin asks.

David nods. “Mhmm, and you know what Bamba will be like if you stink after practice,” David says, poking Calvin in the side gently. “So, go jump in the shower.”

“I don’t stink!” Calvin argues, the hint of a mischievous smile on his face.

“Oh, are you sure about that?” David snarks right back, a brow raising. He leans in and takes an overdramatic breath through his nose. “Yup. Just what I thought: stinky.”

“You’re stinky,” Calvin fires back, always a master of comebacks. He wriggles off the bed and pulls his practice tee shirt over his head to throw it in his laundry hamper.

“I draw the line at being stinky,” David defends himself, one finger extended.

“You might wanna tell your morning breath,” Calvin smirks. David’s jaw drops as he stares at his son for a moment. Suddenly, David gets up, and Calvin lets out a loud laugh as he runs down the hallway to the bathroom before David do anything.

The bathroom door slams shut, and the shower comes alive behind the door, and David sighs, shaking his head. He picks up Calvin’s cleats and puts them away in his closet before exiting Calvin’s bedroom. He goes downstairs and finds Patrick on the couch, channel flipping. David drops into the couch beside Patrick, pressing himself into Patrick’s side.

“How’d that go?” Patrick asks, softly, settling on some HGTV show that neither of them actually care about, but makes for good background noise.

“He wants to quit baseball,” David confirms. They both had been expecting it since the very first practice just over a year ago; Calvin had stuck it out much longer than either of them anticipated.

“Why couldn’t he tell me that?” Patrick asks, softly, heartbreak weaving into his tone.

David wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders and pulls him closer. “He just didn’t want you to be disappointed,” David soothes. “He knows how much you love baseball.”

“There’s nothing he could do that would make me disappointed,” Patrick swears. “Literally nothing. Like, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be disappointed in him if he killed someone, God forbid.”

David nods quickly in understanding. “You would just help him destroy the evidence and get rid of the body?” He confirms, knowing the feeling well.

Patrick nods, eyes wide. “Yeah,” he breathes in agreement.

“Yeah,” David echos, dropping his head to kiss Patrick’s shoulder. “We’ll help him find something else. You’re so good at stuff like that.”

Patrick scoffs. “Obviously not, since I’m the one who signed him up for baseball,” he mumbles.

“No, don’t do that,” David reprimands, softly, one of his hands coming up to brush over Patrick’s hair. “He asked you to sign him up. Didn’t I tell you not to beat yourself up about this?”

“Something like that,” Patrick shrugs, looking over at David. “Pretty hard not to right now.”

David rolls his eyes, then gives him a dull look. “Your son tried really hard to be good at something you love to be closer to you, what a hardship,” he says, sarcastically. “It’s not like you forced him into anything. He wanted to try and you wanted to support him. Neither of those are bad things.”

Patrick sighs again, softer this time, and nods. “You’re right,” he agrees. “You’re right, I’m being stupid.”

David snorts. “Not even if you tried,” he promises, kissing Patrick’s cheek. He brushes a gentle hand over the crown of Patrick’s head and smiles softly at his husband. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

Patrick’s face scrunches in playful confusion. “You know, I can’t say that you have,” he teases, shaking his head.

“Hmm. Shame,” David smirks. “Is that what you’re wearing to dinner?” He uses a finger to gesture over Patrick’s body, his nose wrinkling slightly.

Patrick smirks right back. “Yes, it is,” he confirms with a nod. He leans in and kisses David slowly, a hand carefully sliding across David’s jawline.

(They sign Calvin up for music lessons. He quickly becomes something of a prodigy. Patrick likes to joke about starting a family band, mostly because David gets this horrified expression on his face every time he mentions it.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two days before Christmas, Moira shows up at the house, unannounced, letting herself in without knocking. Calvin jumps at the intrusion, his hand clutching over his heart.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, wide eyed. “Bamba, you scared me so bad. You can’t just walk in here like that, you’ll give me a heart attack!”

Moira scoffs. “A nine year old in cardiac arrest, can you imagine?” She chuckles. “Is your father here?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer, turning to look around. “David!” She yells.

David promptly comes down the stairs, staring, befuddled, at his mother. “What are you doing here?” He accuses her, having earned her before about just dropping by without at least texting first. 

“It occurs to me that we have a yearly tradition I know you have been just dying to pass on,” Moira says pointedly.

When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, a lightbulb goes on in David’s head. He turns his head to look at Calvin. He thinks about all the money he’s spent in the last three weeks to make Calvin’s Christmas a very happy one, and he thinks he deserves a little happiness for himself.

“Go get your shoes, you’re going with Bamba,” he says, quickly, gesturing around him to the stairs.

“What, why?” Calvin asks, scrambling up from the couch.

“You’re learning The Number,” David tells him. Calvin’s face takes on a disgusted hue.

In the six Christmases he’s spent in Schitt’s Creek, Calvin has seen the number seven times. It was forcibly displayed at each and every Rosebud Motel Christmas Party, and once more, when the matinee of the production of The Drowsy Chaperone that Moira was directing last year ran about twenty minutes behind schedule, and they needed to entertain the audience during intermission. It was funny, at first. Now, at ten years old, it was mortifying to watch his Dad and Bamba make absolute fools out of themselves. Now, it’s his turn to make a fool of himself with Bamba.

“No!” Calvin whines.

“Yes!” David whines in the exact same tone. “Go on, you only have a few days to learn it, so you better get started now.”

Calvin groans, his eyes rolling dramatically as he slumps off of the couch and trudges towards the stairs.

“Well, you’re coming, too,” Moira says, easily.

“Excuse me?” David asks, brows raised in annoyance.

“Yes, David, you have to teach the bébé the part,” she admonishes, like she’s surprised he didn’t realize that already. “What, did you expect me to teach him? Please, I can’t be held responsible for your half of this Number, I have enough choreography and vocal runs to remember for myself, thank you.”

“Uh, you should know my part,” David argues, frustrated with anything having to do with The Number. “We only did The Number every year for, like, well over twenty years? I basically know your part as well as I know mine.”

“All the more reason you should lead in the lessons, as you are the expert,” she says with a wave of her hand, shaking her head to toss her hair over her shoulder with an expectant look.

David grimaces, glaring at his mother. “Fine,” he snaps, looking down at Calvin, very seriously. “I’m expecting perfection from you, young man.” Calvin rolls his eyes and goes for the stairs, but David holds out his arm to stop him. “But we’re not going to the motel to rehearse.”

When Patrick gets home from the grocery store two hours later, the couch and coffee table are pushed to the side of the room. Calvin and Moira are rehearsing the awkward transition between Little Drummer Boy and Blue Christmas, but it’s not going well. Patrick stops to watch, nearly dropping the grocery bags in surprise.

“Oh my god,” Patrick whispers to himself as David claps his hands to stop them and adjust Calvin’s footwork.

“I didn’t go to six years of dance lessons at an arts school like you did, Dad,” Calvin complains. “I’m doing the best I can!”

“Don’t you think you’re being a touch too tough on him?” Moira cuts in, putting protective hands on her grandson’s shoulders.

David stares at her in disbelief. “Uh, don’t you think you’re being a touch too soft?” David asks, acerbically. “You made me rehearse this Number for five weeks, until my feet bled, when I was seven! I had to wear my tap shoes to bed because you would do surprise drills in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, David, you know there were a lot of Uppers involved in that time!” Moira tries to defend herself. “Not to mention, that was just after Anything Goes closed and I desperately needed an outlet for my worldly talents.”

“David,” Patrick cuts in, “will you help me bring in the groceries?” He can see that David needs a breather. Patrick realized, many years ago, that it’s best to not leave David and Moira unattended. 

David spins around to glare at Patrick. “Yes,” he grits out. He stomps away from his mother and son, struggling with his Uggs at the door for a second before trudging outside. Patrick hovers for a second, then goes to put his bags down on the counter.

Calvin looks up at Moira. “What are Uppers?” He asks her.

Moira pats his shoulder fondly. “Oh, my boy, you and I have many things to talk about,” she tells him.

Patrick flinches a little bit at that sentence as he goes outside to follow his husband. It’s not Christmas with the Rose family without someone storming out. At least it’s happening now, instead of on Christmas Day. He goes to meet David at the trunk of the car, sitting on the open trunk, his arms crossed tightly around his chest, already shivering from the cold. Patrick stops in front of David, rubbing his arms, for both warmth and support.

“Do I need to say it?” Patrick asks, softly, his nose wrinkling softly.

David rolls his eyes and huffs. “No,” he says, stubbornly. “Why am I even mad? I hate the stupid fucking Number, and I know he’s about as coordinated as a baby deer.” David honestly can’t place why he’s so frustrated.

“Probably because your mother showed up to our house, most likely unannounced, if I know your mother, and she coerced you both into doing something you hate, but you want it to be perfect, because it’s her,” Patrick says, always so damn reasonable.

David lets out a soft whine, leaning forward until his head thuds against Patrick’s shoulder. “When did you get a degree in Psychology?” He groans, muffled into Patrick’s coat.

“Online courses in my free time,” Patrick jokes, warmly, winding his arms around David.

“You have free time?” David snarks back. Patrick chuckles and pulls David closer to keep him warm.

(In the end, The Number is a disaster. Calvin stumbles with the choreography and can’t remember the song order, though he has a natural ear for harmonizing. After that, The Number is retired for good. Ronnie is the only person who is upset about this.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

David has no interest in allowing Patrick to make his own birthday pancakes. They’re basically the only thing David can make somewhat well. Patrick insists, every year, that they’re better than the ones he makes, but both David and Calvin would heartily disagree.

Patrick’s at the table, with a steaming mug of tea and the newspaper, as David flips the pancakes. Together, they enjoy the few minutes of quiet, knowing it’ll be short lived. Neither of them twitch when they hear Calvin thunder down the stairs, used to his commotion, no matter how early it is.

“Good morning,” Calvin greets happily as he walks into the kitchen.

“Morning!” David and Patrick say in unison, David glancing over his shoulder to smile at him.

“Happy birthday,” Calvin smiles to Patrick. He hands over a manila envelope, sealed shut, with a small, timid smile.

Patrick looks at the envelope, then up at his son. “Thank you,” he says with a fond smile, accepting his gift. He folds up the newspaper and sets it aside so he can open the envelope.

Calvin and David share a matching, knowing smile as Calvin sits at the table beside Patrick. They both watch at Patrick carefully opens up the envelope, sliding the papers out with great care. It only takes a few seconds for him to understand the letterhead.

“Adoption papers?” Patrick asks, his voice quivering with unexpected emotion.

Calvin nods enthusiastically, smiling brightly. “You’re my dad,” he says, easily. “I wanted it to be official.”

Patrick lets out a rough breath, scrambling out of his seat and up to his feet. Calvin scrambles up, too, just in time to be pulled in for a tight hug. If Calvin can feel his wracked breathing, he doesn’t say anything. Out of his two dads, Patrick has never been the one more likely to cry; bringing him to an emotional edge like this will, one day, be one of Calvin’s happiest moments and proudest accomplishments.

The sight of his boys, the thick emotion in the early morning air, the fond smell of birthday pancakes, it all gets to David. Tears well in his eyes, all of his insides softening tenderly. He grips the spatula in both of his hands tightly, pursing his lips to suppress an embarrassing, joyous sob, because he is the dad more likely to cry. He doesn’t want his own ugly wail to step on this moment.

But they both know, and they both look at David. Calvin unlocks an arm from around Patrick to extend to David. Without a moment of hesitation, David steps into the embrace, wrapping his arms around the two most important people in his world. He’ll never let go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Dad, stop,” Calvin complains after the thousandth picture, his eyes rolling dramatically. He’s all dressed up in his little suit, ready to go to his first winter formal dance. David has been taking pictures for twenty minutes, and Calvin was supposed to be over at the Hoffmans’ house ten minutes ago, so that Kayden’s mom can drive them and their friends to the dance.

David scoffs. “Please,” he says. “If Aunt Alexis were here, there would be a ringlight and a lesson in posing.”

“So we would have gotten the picture already?” Calvin deadpans, and Patrick, sitting on the couch behind David, hides a snicker.

David gapes at Calvin. “Okay, snarky,” he complains, but a smirk tugs at his lips. He snaps a few more pictures before putting his phone away, slipping it into his back pocket. He steps towards Calvin and brushes his hands over his shoulders, adjusting the sports jacket just slightly. “Do you have your phone?”

“Yes,” Calvin says, already bored of this song and dance. He’s thrumming with excitement to move on to the next phase of his evening, and David is only slowing the process sooner.

“House key?” David asks.

“Yes,” Calvin says, in the same, bored tone.

“And you have your bag for tomorrow?” David confirms, knowing he’ll be staying down the street at Kayden’s house after the dance.

“Yes, Dad, I’ve got everything,” Calvin sighs, giving David a pointed look. He looks over David’s shoulder to his other Dad, silently asking for help.

“David,” Patrick pipes up, standing from the couch. “He’s got it. He’s a big boy now.” He steps closer to his husband and son, putting a gentle hand on David’s shoulder. “Do you want a ride down the street?”

Calvin makes a face at both of them. “Are you messing?” He asks, plainly. He’s fully immersed in his ‘I-Don’t-Want-To-Be-Babied’ phase. Every favor the pair of fathers extend to their thirteen year old isn’t helpful, it’s oppressive.

“Okay, teen angst, it was just a question,” Patrick teases him, patting his shoulder fondly. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to get your dress shoes all dirty, but-.” Calvin cuts him off with a pained, surprised look, like he hadn’t considered that option. “Alright, now I’m messing, sorry.”

Calvin huffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m leaving now,” he says, pointedly, stepping around his parents to go for the front door.

“Bye, kiddo,” Patrick says, fondly and with a wave.

“Have fun!” David advises, excitedly. “Text us when you get back to the Hoffmans’ tonight!”

“Okay,” Calvin says.

“Call if anything happens or if you need us,” David continues.

“Bye, Dad,” Calvin says, very pointedly, just before he closes the front door loudly behind him. They watch him, through the window at the front of the house, as Calvin power-walks down the street to the Hoffmans’ house a few doors down.

“It feels like twenty five minutes ago he was small enough to climb up my pant legs,” David sighs, wistfully. “Now he’s basically like a tiny little, mostly-grown man, who doesn’t need help with anything anymore, telling his Dads to chillax.”

Patrick’s brows furrow. “Is that what he said?” He squeaks. 

“I mean, Jesus, when did he get so tall?” David keeps on, like he wasn’t interrupted.

“Okay, no more Fiddler on the Roof for you, Tevye,” Patrick teases, wrapping his arms around David’s middle to press a soft kiss to David’s jaw, and then another. “Do you ever think about having another?” David jerks in Patrick’s arms, giving him a bewildered look. “Since you’re waxing poetic about the sands of time, it sounds like the Old Man needs some spark of youth back in his life.”

David’s face twitches through a handful of emotions, landing somewhere between amused and horrified. “Call me old,” he grumbles. “See if I put a baby in you now.”

Patrick makes a face at David’s phrasing. “That’s disgusting,” he accuses, but kisses his husband slowly to pull him away from the window.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Calvin swings into the store, the bells jingling merrily overhead to announce him. “Hey,” he waves to Patrick, finishing up with helping a customer with some products. Patrick waves back with a smile as Calvin goes to the counter to talk to David.

“How was school?” David asks, glancing over at his son as he hands a Rose Apothecary tote to the customer he’s finishing with.

“Terrible,” Calvin groans, because High School is Hell on earth. “But a freshman got duct taped to a tree, that was pretty funny.” He picks up the tablet David had set aside when the customers came in, holding it up to the father in question. “Are we moving?” Still pulled up on the unlocked tablet are local house listings on Ray’s website.

“Maybe,” David says.

“No,” Patrick says at the exact same time, walking over to the counter, having finished with the customer.

David rolls his eyes and looks at Patrick. “Your dad thinks it would be more cost effective to build an addition onto the house,” he says, then turns his eyes back to their son. “But, do you want to live in a construction zone for six-plus months?”

Calvin’s face rumples at the idea. “No, all of the construction dust will get into my clothes,” he says, like he won’t even continue to entertain the idea. David gets a smug look on his face as he casts his eyes towards Patrick, gesturing to Calvin, as though his point has just been proven. “Why do you want to put an addition onto the house?”

David and Patrick share a long look before they both turn their eyes back to Calvin. “We have been talking,” David says, slowly, carefully selecting each word, one at a time, “about, possibly, adopting another kid, maybe.” David’s eyes dart to Patrick, then back to their son, waiting for a reaction.

Calvin looks back and forth between them for an extended moment. “Was I not supposed to know that?” He asks. “I know that. You guys aren’t really subtle.”

“Oh,” David says, softly.

“I mean, it makes sense,” Calvin shrugs. “You’re the best parents in this stupid town, obviously.”

“While I agree with you,” David cuts in, “um, I think a big part of it is how great our kid is, without parental guidance.”

Calvin rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Whatever, I’m not that great,” he deflects, walking around David to get out from behind the counter and the center of attention.

Calvin is a great kid. Frankly, the word ‘great’ doesn’t really begin to cover it. He’s extremely smart, at the very top of his class, not that it’s a very high bar. He goes out of his way to be nice to people, and tries to be friends with everyone his age. He tutors younger kids with both academics and music, and helps old ladies with their groceries. He helps out around the motel and city hall, doing yard work and planting flowers, without having been asked. When the other parents complain about their sons, they wish aloud that they’d be more like Calvin Rose.

“I think you should do it,” Calvin says as he grabs a juice, cracking it open. “You got the practice round out of the way, and I think you did a pretty good job.”

“Stop, you’re not just some practice round,” Patrick scolds, gently. As he grows into his adolescence, it becomes clearer and clearer exactly how much Calvin is like David, often using himself as harsh bait for a joke. Patrick doesn’t hate much, but he definitely doesn’t like when either of them do that.

Calvin rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of his drink. “You know what I mean,” he complains. “You guys are great. Any kid would be lucky to have you. I know I am.” He shrugs, like that’s not among the sweetest things he’s ever said to them. “Besides, I always wanted a little brother or sister.”

And, easy as that, their decision has been made. Months of back and forth about whether or not another child is a good idea is suddenly resolved.

“If this is because we need more space, moving would be faster,” he says. “Adoption takes long enough, right? You don’t also want to wait on having the house done.”

Patrick puffs with pride at Calvin’s level-headedness. They may not share genes, but Calvin is still Patrick’s son, and he still inherited all of Patrick’s very best, most logical qualities. David also puffs up, because their son’s logical answer is, in fact, the option he thinks is best suited for their situation.

(They move into a larger home three months later. It takes another ten months, but they welcome a seven year old girl named Harper into their family, who takes to life as a Rose like a duck to water.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’ve put it off long enough, it’s time to go. They’ve put together Calvin’s dorm room, then rearranged it, and taken a walk around campus, and treated their boy, who is much more a man these day, out for dinner. Now, the hours have dwindled. They can’t put off leaving any longer. It’s time to let go.

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” David asks, for what must be the fifteenth time.

“No, but I’ll be fine,” Calvin says, effortlessly. He knows he’s prepared, probably overly-so, but in the unlikely event he actually has forgotten something, he can just go buy it for himself.

“Well, call if you need anything,” Patrick says, a fond smile on his face to hide how fearful he is to let go of his boy, to let him go somewhere Patrick won’t be able to follow.

“Yeah, if you want to come home, you know, for laundry,” David nods along in agreement. “Or, if you wanted to drop out.”

“David!” Patrick scolds. “He hasn’t even been to his first class.”

“What?” David gasps. “He should know-.” He looks at Calvin. “You should know that we will support you, no matter what you do.”

Calvin huffs and puts a hand on either of his fathers’ shoulders. “I’m gonna be fine,” he promises, with some finality. “I’ll call every day, and I’ll eat all my vegetables, and not get anyone pregnant. You don’t have to worry about me.”

They know that, logically. Calvin has been very self-sufficient for nearly as long as they’ve known him. But just because they don’t have to worry about him doesn’t mean they won’t. They’ve spent the last fourteen years with him at the front and center of all of their thoughts. This is the first time they’ll be without him since he joined their family.

The only thing that can soothe David at this point is his family intact. Everyone in the little dorm room must know that, because Patrick and Calvin gather him up in a tight group hug. Having both sets of arms around him, having both bodies within his own grasp, settles David more than he’d ever be willing to admit.

Slowly, they all pull back, and Calvin very subtly escorts them towards the door. “I’ll see you in a few months,” he promises.

“Be good,” Patrick says. “You know, respectful.”

“Hydrate before you go out and get super fucked up,” David advises.

“Don’t skip class,” Patrick jumps in, wanting to give more wholesome advice.

“Only take the pills you recognize,” David says, wanting to give realistic advice. “If you’re not sure, send me a pic.”

“David,” Patrick admonishes, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What?” David shrugs. “Telling him to stay drug free is like expecting him to be celibate forever.”

“Stop talking,” Calvin says, disturbed more than he ought to be. “No more advice. You know, most parents can’t wait to push their baby birds out of the nest.”

“Yeah, well, most baby birds are intolerable shits,” David says, very evenly, which only makes Calvin smirk at him. “You, as per usual, go well above and beyond expectations, you always have.”

Calvin smiles fondly at his dads. “Bye,” he reminds them that they’re leaving, slowly herding them to the door.

“Bye, Calvin,” Patrick says, giving him one last tight hug before stepping into the hallway. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Calvin says as he get tugged into David’s arms. He hugs David back just as tightly. He remembers, vaguely, a time before his dads. He remembers it being a lonely, miserable time, and that his life is much better now that he’s with them. Even though this is the first time he’ll be away from David and Patrick since they met, he’s not afraid. He knows they’re not leaving him behind, they’re letting him take his first steps on his own. The last thing he wants is to let them down.

“I love you,” David mumbles. Calvin holds on tighter for a moment, then lets go.

“Drive safe,” Calvin says with a nod as he steps out of David’s grasp.

Patrick takes David by the wrist to carefully pull him away, knowing that these first few steps out of the room are some of the hardest David has ever taken. Calvin watches them leave from the doorway until they’re around the corner and headed out of the main door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Autumn lets herself into her boyfriend’s apartment, like she has a few times before. Things are still relatively new between them, but everything is so different with Calvin. Being with him is easier than breathing, he makes her feel like she’s floating on air. He’s preoccupied on the phone for the time being, so she smiles, and gives Calvin a wave, then makes herself comfortable on his couch. Despite having only been together a few weeks, she feels a certain ease, being in his space.

“So long as you tell Ronnie that, she’ll probably help you out,” he says. “She’d definitely do it in exchange for beer, but you refuse to find one you like.” He pauses, listening to whomever is on the other line. “Nah, you just have the preferences of a girl rushing a sorority.” He pauses again, then laughs. “Okay, I gotta go. Yes, thanks for asking. Oh, my god, you’re deranged. There might actually be something wrong with you. Yeah, love you too. Bye.” He hangs up the phone, then goes to sit with Autumn on the couch.

“Hi,” she greets him with a smile as he settles in beside her.

“Hi,” he greets right back, leaning in to kiss Autumn softly. “Sorry about that. My dad was having a meltdown about a customer cracking the toilet at the store.” He rolls his eyes at the mental image, shaking his head.

Autumn’s brows furrow at the commentary. She’s met Calvin’s dad, twice. Autumn can’t really imagine the man in crisp button-down shirts having a meltdown, especially over a toilet. He’s the only person she’s met that’s even more calm, cool and collected than Calvin is. “Your dad?” She confirms. “Having a meltdown? I can’t really see it.”

Calvin momentarily looks baffled at her, confused as to when she’d met David, then realization dawns, and he chuckles softly. “I have two dads,” he explains.

“Oh,” Autumn gasps, in surprise.

“I never told you that?” He asks. She shakes her head. “Oh, my bad. Yeah, I have two dads.”

“Your mom got remarried?” She asks, trying to fill in the blanks.

“Uh, no,” he says, glancing away. He knew his town was special, but did they really live in that much of a bubble? “I mean, yeah, she did, kind of recently, but I don’t really know the guy she got married to, and we’re not really close. No, my dads are together. Like, a married couple.”

“Oh!” Autumn realizes. “Wow, that’s cool. Sorry. I didn’t realize-.”

“It’s okay,” Calvin shakes his head with a smile. “My dad, Patrick, the one you met, he can give off some seriously straight vibes when he’s in his own.”

“No, just some serious Dad vibes,” Autumn says with a smile. “So, you were adopted?”

Calvin tries to collect his thoughts. He always forgets that the first part of his story is complicated, especially compared to how easy his life ended up being. “Yes?” He tries. “My dad, David, the one I was on the phone with just now, he’s my biological dad. He and my mom were together eons ago, but split up before I was born. I went to live with him and Patrick when I was a little kid, and then I was adopted officially by Patrick later on. They’re both my dads.” He unlocks his phone and searches through his camera roll, finding the most recent picture he took with his dads and sister.

“Aw!” Autumn coos, taking his phone to examine the photograph a little more closely. “Wow, you look exactly like your dad. Like, exactly like him.” Calvin chuckles and nods in agreement. He reaches over and swipes a few times until he lands on the picture of him, David and Johnny. “Wow, very strong resemblance for the Rose family.”

“I know that I’ll never lose my hair,” Calvin jokes. “Sorry. That I didn’t tell you. I guess I forget that it’s not, like, common knowledge.”

Autumn reaches up and brushes her hand over his hair gently. “Small Town Boy Forgets Not Everyone Knows His Tragic Backstory,” she teases him.

He grins and shakes his head. “Not tragic,” his disagrees. He pauses and thinks for a second. “Well, the part where my mom left me at a motel when I was four is a little tragic, but other than that, it’s a pretty nice backstory, actually.”

Autumns eyes widen and she leans back. “Your mom left you at a motel when you were four?” She confirms.

“I told you, we’re not really close. And, it’s my Grandpa and Aunt Stevie’s motel, if that makes it any better,” he says, then grins. “My dad used to live there.”

“At a motel?” She repeats, for clarity.

Calvin’s grin only grows wider. “Wow, I really haven’t told you anything about my family, huh?” He teases her, pulling her back a little closer to him. She shakes her head with a soft smile. “Before I was born, my grandpa owned the second largest video rental chain in North America.”

“What’s a video rental chain?” She asks.

“I’m not really sure, I think it’s what they had to use before Netflix was invented?” Calvin explains, his nose scrunching as he shakes his head. “My family was, like, one of the richest in Canada, and then they lost everything. The government swooped in, and within a couple hours, they went from hundreds of millions of dollars and yacht parties, to living in two motel rooms in a little town in the middle of nowhere called Schitt’s Creek.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
